The Whole Truth
by Mere
Summary: Kyle confronts Max after 'Destiny'


  
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"Discovery on our own terms, no one else's."   
-Max Evans   
  
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I never meant to let him know.   
  
Liz, maybe. In the darkest part of my mind, the part I don't usually know exists, maybe I   
always wanted her to find out the truth. I wanted her to deny it for me. I wanted Liz the   
scientist to tell me flat out that it was impossible for me to be an alien, and I would   
believe her, and that would be the end of that.   
  
But my Liz let me down. When she told me I wasn't an alien, her voice was shaking and she   
didn't convince me. When I told her that I was, she gave in and accepted my words. And so   
I had to keep on running.   
  
But Kyle was never, ever, supposed to find out.   
  
Kyle wasn't supposed to get shot.   
  
Nothing ever comes out right, you know that?   
  
If I had let her die-   
  
The door to my room cracks open and I'm immediately on alert. It feels like I haven't really   
relaxed for weeks now, and the wakefulness is taking its toll. The figure steps inside, and   
I know by the shadow he casts who it is.   
  
"Evans."   
  
"Hey, Kyle." I'm calm. I'm in control. I'm not staring.   
  
He fidgets, obviously uncomfortable. I bet he's never been in an alien's bedroom before.  
  
"Listen, I just came by to ask you-" He breaks off. Am I staring? Isabel says I stare   
sometimes, and I can't let him know-   
"Did you put something in my head?"   
  
I blink. "What?"   
  
"When you healed me, or whatever. There were these, these pictures-"   
  
"Flashes," I murmur. "We call them flashes."   
  
He frowns and I rush to explain myself, all eloquence deserting me.   
  
"Sometimes when we use our powers - see, we can't really control them that well. And we see   
the other person's memories, or they see ours." Speak in plural, I tell myself. We do this.   
I'm not any different from-   
  
"Memories." I can't stop the panic now, the sarcasm in his voice betraying his knowledge of-   
his suspicion.  
  
"Well memories, or...thoughts"  
He moves so close to me that I can see the movement of his throat as he speaks, lowly.   
Threatening. "Thoughts of me changing?"  
  
The room is spinning and pushing us still closer together. The only response I can think of   
to make is to reach out for his arm, feel his warm skin touch mine and I see what I gave him.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Kyle and I in the locker room, after gym class. Kyle in a ratty school towel, water dripping   
down his back. Eye contact. His hand brushes mine.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
I jerk back and the moment is shattered. Sitting down on my bed ungracefully, I try to come   
up with an explanation, a rationalization of the images lurking in my brain. I steady myself.  
He's looking at me with hatred but I don't flinch this time.  
  
Now it's Kyle who's lost his cool, and the satisfaction I feel is overwhelmed by the knowledge   
that everything is crashing down around me and this time it won't come out all right. He's   
yelling. I hope my mother doesn't hear.  
  
"I always knew you were wierd! Always! God damn it, Evans, what the hell is wrong with you?   
A fag stole my girl, a fuckin' FAG?"   
  
I just stare at him. My throat is dry.  
  
"Take it out!"  
  
I can't take out what's always been there.  
  
"You did this to me, Evans! You put that in my head. That's not me - I'm not like you! Take   
it the fuck OUT!"  
  
I think I'm smiling faintly as some things click in my head and I realize what I should have   
known all along, if I wasn't too scared to see it.   
  
That image didn't come from my head.  
  
His mouth is still moving but the angry words have ceased to matter. I know what he's saying   
when he reaches out and shoves me back onto the bed. His lips touch mine and the vibrations   
of his throat show that he's still cursing me out, swearing against my mouth. He's strong,   
for a human, and the solid hard bulk of his body pressing me down should be more uncomfortable   
than it is.  
  
The words have stopped coming and now it's just tongue and teeth and clashing mouths with no   
experience. He tastes dark and heavy, nothing like Liz's cherry-flavored sweetness.  
  
His hands are on my shoulders and my hair and I never knew why humans liked to lose control   
before this second, and now I'm scared that I won't ever want to regain it.  
  
It's probably good that Kyle rolls off of me and stands up and looks bewildered and enraged   
again, and it's probably good that I let him get away. His mouth works silently and I think   
I sucked all of his words out, took them into myself and let them sink as he backs away from   
me, face disbelieving, lips still swollen and eyes still angry.  
  
He flees from the room. I watch him go in a daze, head still pounding with words.  
  
"Fuckin' FAG! I'm not like you! I'm not-"  
  
God, Liz, save me from a life of watching Kyle-  
  
Save me and don't ever let me know.  
  
END   



End file.
